In Absentia II - Airports and Airplanes by QofMush Date: Sun, 24 May 98 15:24:45 CDT Disclaimer: Most of the characters included within belong to the Fox Network, the creative people over at 1013, Chris Carter, David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. No infringement is intended. Classification: MSR Rating: PG Time line: Mid Season Five Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name stays attached. Feedback: Wouldn't miss it for the world - QofMush@aol.com Summary: Does absence make the heart grow fonder or smarter? Acknowledgements: As with everything I write, this wouldn't see the light of day without Sherrie and Jill. Words cannot express how much you both help me. Dedication: This one is for the Screamers, especially jeni. Thanks for all the hand-holding, support and laughs. Special mention goes to Amanda, who made In Absentia something of a crusade. ******************* Airports giveth and airports taketh away. I've spent more time in the airports of this country than I'd care to admit. Lucky for me, the FBI lets me keep my frequent flyer miles. Now, if I could get them to let me take some vacation time I could use them. I must have enough for Hawaii by now. Maybe two tickets. First class. There's an idea. He'd never go for it. I'd never ask. It might be worth it, though, to see the look on his face. A beautiful, wriggly, wall-eyed pike, hazel-eyes bugging out of his sockets, gasping for air. Rendering Mulder speechless. We all have our quests in life. Some are larger than others. But I digress. Random daydreaming doesn't come naturally to me. I usually have neither the time nor inclination. Sitting at San Francisco International Airport will stop anyone's watch, though. For longer than nine minutes. Yes, I'm sitting in the terminal waiting for an early morning flight from Washington DC. Being "Scully," I got here in plenty of time. - enough time for a quick cup of coffee, a glance at the Chronicle, and an investigation of the covers of the latest weekly magazines at the newsstand. Running out of things to do - I knew I should have brought my briefcase - I find myself waxing poetic about airports. It's amazing what missing someone will do to your psyche. A quick look at the Arrivals Board shows the flight is on time, due to arrive in fifteen minutes. I might as well start making my way down towards the gate. Of course, it's the very last one in the terminal. Nothing easy and convenient for him. I walk by two little girls holding a sign that says "DADDY" in block letters like the limo drivers hold. It breaks my heart. Mom's trying to clean their smudged faces from the chocolate donuts they must have indulged in while waiting. A quick stop in the ladies' room to fix my make-up and hair - it's damned difficult to look casual - and the fifteen minutes are just about up. The monitor switches from ON TIME to ARRIVED. Okay, now the butterflies are here. I shrug and square my shoulders as I step toward the gate. Mulder and I have been separated by a continent for the last three months. He's been in DC heading up the VCS; I've been an ASAC out here in San Francisco. Our professional paths have hardly crossed, but our friendship has remained as strong as ever. A case has brought us together. Lucky us. Somewhere along the way, I realized I missed Mulder. More than I should miss a friend. I have my suspicions that I'm not the only one. It's this "missing" that has me here at SFO at this ungodly hour waiting to meet his plane when I know he is perfectly capable of renting a car. He doesn't know I'm meeting him. That's what frightens me. Well, that and how I'm going to act when I see him. I have to get used to him as an actual "person" again. Not just someone on the other side of the phone or computer terminal. A person I think I may be in love with. Oh, God. The first class passengers are deplaning. If Mulder is still the same Mulder, he'll be one of the last people off the plane. He likes to sit near the back where he can be alone and look over the case. We learned the hard way that people sitting next to you don't like to look at crime-scene photos over sodas and peanuts. What will he do when he realizes I'm here? That I've gone out of my way to meet him for no logical reason? So un-Scully of me. Deep breaths. Oh, God. Here he comes. He doesn't see me because he's not looking for me. He's not expecting to be met, yet my favorite paranoiac is still using those eyes to search the terminal. "It's not paranoid if they're...." echoes in my head. He looks amazing. Because he flew in on a weekend, he eschewed FBI rules that require Agents to fly in business attire. Jeans, a mock turtleneck, and a black leather coat to ward off the San Francisco fog. He still scans the terminal as he walks. I've positioned myself to be behind most of the greeters. I needed time to take him in before being seen. To reacquaint myself with the beauty that is Mulder. A large part of his beauty is his entire unawareness of self. He doesn't notice the head turns he gets constantly. I'm sure at least one of the stewardesses asked him how long he was in town. He probably just thought she was being friendly. My Mulder is too busy trying to right the injustices of the world to worry about a flirtatious stewardess. I've been spotted. I'm trapped in that gaze. It skimmed past me in it's endless search for enemies, skidded to a halt, and returned in wonder. Then, I'm given the most beautiful gift I have ever received. Sheer happiness. As reflected in the face of Fox Mulder. I step out from behind my pillar and walk towards him as he tries not to knock over slower passengers in his rush to get to me. His eyes are warm, yet questioning, and his smile is the big one. Teeth and all. I have locked in my mental file cabinet every single time I've been given this one. I think this is the first one I've received just because. Not because we had cheated death, or were in a hospital somewhere, but just because. My smile must mirror his. I can feel the muscles in my cheeks stretch and I worry that I must look like a clown with a silly grin. We both slow our paces as we get closer. It's so easy to rebuild those fences. He shrugs and gestures comically for me to come closer. He drops his laptop off his shoulder to the ground, not caring about the potential damage. My smile gentles, and I refuse to let this go. Suddenly, I launch myself at him, burrowing into his chest. My arms have minds of their own and slip underneath his coat to grab at the strong muscles of his back. I feel his arms encircle me, and one hand sneak up to the back of my head to hold me to him. I missed him. Oh my, did I miss him. We stand like that forever until I back away. I don't want to cause too much of a scene, and we're still hugging like friends, right? Much longer and it will seem like so much more. Cross every line. I'm not sure I want to do that. Let alone in the American Airlines terminal. I pull back, but Mulder's not ready to let me go just yet. His hands come up to cup my face and he stares down at me, searching. Oh, God. Is he going to kiss me? We've yet to exchange a word. ********************* I have never minded flying. Driving bores me to tears. Sailing makes me seasick. But, flying? Flying's exhilarating. Not only does it get you where you want to go in the quickest possible time, but it also gives you the sense that you're going somewhere. Somewhere exciting. After all the planes I've been on, going to places less than exciting, you'd think I'd be a little more jaded. Truth is, I am. Being stuck in an airport in the middle of nowhere during a snow storm takes the thrill out of flying pretty quick. But, boarding this plane in DC this morning, I'm like that kid going on his first plane ride all over again. Why? Because I'm going to see Scully. I chuckle to myself as I try to get comfortable in what resembles a human sardine can. Luckily, the plane wasn't booked and I have both the aisle and window seats to myself in this row. The aisle seat allows me to stretch my legs, the window seat gives me a view. And a place to stash my laptop while I work. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Scully. Big surprise. That's where I seem to be an awful lot lately. It's really wreaking havoc with my powers of concentration. A quick glance at my watch shows that twenty minutes have gone by since the last time I checked. I'm twenty minutes closer to California. I've never had a longer flight. Usually, I can amuse myself on flights by reading, listening to music, or catching up on paperwork. I know I should be studying the case file that has me winging my way to San Francisco, but I can't. The captain announces that we are on time and scheduled to land in fifteen minutes. Thank God. I think the flight attendants were tired of my fidgeting. They were friendly at the beginning of the flight, but once I asked for my third cup of coffee, their attitudes seemed to chill. Oh, well. Do I call her as soon as I land? Do I call her from the hotel? Do I wait and see her Monday at the office? When we talked on the phone yesterday, I told her when I was flying in. I intimated that I'd like to see her for dinner or something when I arrived. Nothing too overt, but a wisecrack about craving Cioppino should have given Scully a clue that I'd like to see her. God forbid I just tell her. I'll call her from the hotel. Don't want to seem too desperate. Although if this flight lasts much longer, I may not be able to resist the Air phone on the headrest in front of me. But, she'd think I was crazy. Wait, she already thinks I'm crazy. I think Scully misses me as much as I miss her. Well, maybe not that much. But, she does miss me. I'm not usually good at that kind of thing, yet with Scully I just know. Before I have a chance to ponder that thought any longer, we land. A major drawback to having the row to myself at the rear of the plane is that everyone gets to deplane before me. Normally this doesn't bother me, but today my patience is at an all-time low. Don't these people know I have to get to Scully? Most airports are fundamentally the same. I casually look around as I walk through the gate to see if there's anything different about SFO. Not really. There's a Boudin stand for tourists to buy sourdough right before they get on the plane, a duty-free store, and a Starbucks. There aren't too many people waiting to greet the flight. Or, it could be that I'm one of the last to deplane, and the greeters have all done their greeting already. I glance around like I always do, just in case there's someone suspicious hanging around. There's a redhead, hair a similar shade as Scu-- No. No way. Way. Wayne and Garth have taken up residence in my head. I'm stunned. For a moment I stop short because I can't believe I'm really seeing her. Dana Scully, standing partially behind a column off to the side of the main walkway, dressed casually in a sweater and jeans, wearing an oversized bomber jacket that emphasizes her petite size. She's smiling. For me. I can die a happy man. I rush over to her as fast as I can get through the crowd. Funny, it didn't seem like a crowd a few minutes ago. At the last minute, I slow down and decide to play up the laughs. I make her take the final step. I *know* what I want, I'm still unsure as to how she feels. Meeting me at the airport must be a big hint. When I motion her towards me, her smile dims for a minute, and I'm afraid I've made a mistake by being a clown. But, she gives me a new smile I've never seen - a gentle one - and tackles me. I wish I could hold her forever. Too soon she backs away. I don't let her go. I loosen my hold, but I have to keep touching her. I need to touch her. I surprise us both by cradling her face and turning it up to me. She looks up at me with a questioning look in her eyes and that sexy new smile on her face. Should I kiss her? Do I dare?